Insanity, The Master's Friend
by Harukayo
Summary: The master's POV. Set after The End Of Time, changed from the point that he kills Rassilon as in, he survives , I've tried to stay in character as much as possible. My first Doctor Who fan-fic.
1. Musings, ramblings and the fact of death

**_Disclaimer - Doctor who and the characters in it do not belong to me (I would probably make quite a few changes if they did)._  
**

**Musings of the Master**

Boredom is hell. Quiet is hell. Sleep is hell. My life is hell, yet I cling so strongly to it- I haven't the courage to end it, though I've thought of it many a time. And still The Doctor offers me a place in the TARDIS offers me a space full of quiet, and boredom, and _nothing_. How am I supposed to cope, HUH? I _need _my battles, fights, wins losses. Without them there is the nothingness of space and time. With no plans, when enclosed in the iron grip of all those hells I cry and scream and rage and hurt and tear myself apart. And no one feels it, no one _hears_ it. The Doctor, ohhh, The Doctor, he stands and watches me suffer, and hears nothing of the drums, the drums that pull me into them, that pound into my brain. And when he does hear, when hears the call he hears a _sound_, a sound that hears for the first time, THE FIRST TIME, and he jumps back, surprised at the reality of the thing, that torturous terrible thing. And the drums don't stop for me, they continue as if mocking me for my relief. And when I'm putting a plan into action, even if that very plan is being _foiled_, foiled by The Doctor, I still _think_, and silence and the drums are kept away. As time went on something else latched onto the drum beat, something that lurks in boredom, quiet, sleep, something that forces me to continue my never ending plans to rule the universe. Never ending, because one man keeps me from succeeding, one man who I must destroy and must not.

**On killing Rassilon;**

I fired bolts of my own life force into Rassilon, driving him down, down into the ground. I hated him, and revelled in the feeling of some of that anger, hater inside me being vented against the person who did this to me. The Time Lords, despicable. They ruined my _life. _As the last bolt was fired from my hands, I could only laugh, internally I was laughing. Laughing that ironically in my revenge I'd saved The Doctor with every ounce of my life. Laughing that Rassilon, the coward that did this to me was dead. Laughing that the drums were fading. I prepared myself to be pulled into the Time War, and waited, for I would die back where it started, on my home planet. I fell to the ground, chin hitting hard against the floor and watched the Time Lords fade from my sight. I turned my head, knowing already the reason I was still there. The Doctor. Who else would save me from one death to confront another slightly different one. He was looking at me from where he'd crawled, and still had hold of my leg, having grabbed it to keep me here. He moved over to me, not bothering to pick himself up from the floor and moved into a sitting position. I ached, every inch of me knew I was going to die, and there was only one thing that could be worse, and it happened.

"Thank you." He said. And that hurt me more than anything, the guy I'd had a rivalry with most of my life had thanked me, and for saving his life no less.

"You really mean that don't you? Well, what _should _I say to you. You saved me from dying on Galifrey to die here instead. Do you enjoy watching me die, Doctor?" He opened his mouth and closed it again, words were useless, and he knew it. The pain flared up and I grimaced. I closed my eyes and prayed death would come quicker than it was threatening to. When suddenly four knocks resounded through the room, knowing the significance made them resound all the more. I turned my head to see Wilfred Mot stuck in the glass chamber, expecting to me let out. The Doctor said something very surprising to me then.

"It seems we both die today anyway, I'm sure you're pleased I didn't come out on top in the end." The Doctor seemed to be fighting back tears as he got up and strode over to the trapped old man. I'm sure they spoke for a while, but my hearing began to fade, and before long my sight did too. With whatever energy I had left, I punched the floor in all my frustration at my death, and blacked out.

**Okay, anyone who has read to the end, thank you :) I'll update soon, if I can. Please review.**


	2. Rage

**Okay, I'm not sure if this as good as the first chapter, but I'd love to know what you think.**

I slowly regained consciousness, every inch of my body on fire, I could do no more than lie there and feel my head hurt – it hurt _so_ much. But I realised there was silence, true silence without the drums. The drums that were gone, _gone. _But I felt nothing, nothing but pain, why did it _hurt _so much, was this hell? I deserved to go there after all - I knew that much. I opened my eyes slowly, so _slowly,_ keeping them squinted to stop the light burning into my head. _Light_, that was something, where ever I was it was light, my eyes inched open ever slower, so slowly that I wanted to snuff out every last light in my desperation to see. There was something close by, a dark shape just to the right of me, hard to make out as my eyes remained squinted. Such anger flooded me, anger at everything and nothing, and everything once again. And pain, more than physical it crushed my entire being, and I raged at it. With my eyes still unopened, I threw myself up, pain or no pain I needed something to replace the drums. I couldn't face being alone with myself, with the hurt.

I lashed out wildly at the blurry shapes in front of me. Thud, thud, _thud. _Not a sound came to me, though I was sure I was screaming in rage too, and all I could see was limited too. I wanted to destroy it all. I fell forwards as I went to hit out again, and struck my head against something hard and cold. Everything went black, for a second time.

I woke up much more comfortable than before, and with my vision better – I could see my hands at least as I held them in front of my face. As for my hearing, I had no idea what it was like, as there may or may not have been anything to hear. I looked past my hands and saw I was in some sort of hospital or something, medicines of various sorts in cupboards and on shelves and that awful sterile whiteness. I looked to my side and saw The Doctor, sitting there with his head turned up to the ceiling, lost in thought. Anger and frustration filled me again and I went to push myself up, but my arms were strapped down. I tried to rip myself off the bed all the same, and resulted in my wrists becoming red and raw. The Doctor had merely turned his head to watch me, with that god-awful pity and sadness in his eyes. I kept ripping at my shackles, until I felt them rip through my skin. Then I stopped. What had I become? What had the _drums _done to me? I used to be so sure of what I was, and what I wanted, but now I was a wretch who lay there, alone, and screamed at the universe to go away. My head hurt so much, and as did the weight on my chest. And I drew in on myself, curling up into a ball and turning away from The Doctor, my arms still outstretched and bound, and I cried, and screamed, and shouted, and cried again, as I never had before, the uncontrollable need to get rid of the pain taking over. The sobs racked my body furiously, and I found I couldn't stop. The Doctor leaned over then and placed his hand on my shoulder, with his arm resting behind my neck and, in typical Doctor style, said;

"I'm am _so _sorry."

Oh, the words, how pitiful they were compared to the suffering and hate I had endured for so long.

"Sorry! Sorry? What is sorry to the years I had the drums pounding, _pounding_ in my head. Onetwothreefour onetwothreefour. Merely a product of insanity you thought? Well you were wrong! And what do you say? Sorry? You toss the word around as if it can make everything better. It _can't_!"

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish before deciding not to say anything. Good, _good_, what could he say anyway, nothing! I cried and raged for a long time after that, shouting at the air for all that was wrong, and by the time I'd calmed down I realised The Doctor had left. My exhausted mind pushed me into sleep, and I dreamt dreams of Gallifrey, that became nightmares quickly. I couldn't decide, in my dream state, whether I loved or hated that planet.

**I have alot of time on my hands at the moment, so I _should _update quite quickly. It always helps to get reviews though :)**


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